


One Kiss For Each Piece

by Silverine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Canon Divergent, Canon Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shatt Week 2018, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, space therapy with romantic results
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 08:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14101329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverine/pseuds/Silverine
Summary: Shiro is back from his traumatic second experience with the Galra and knows little to nothing of what happened in his absence. He awakes in a room, far from the violet lights and a ghost from the past is right beside him.For the ghost, it's another first meeting, and a second chance to do things right. He'll do anything to help Shiro heal.First work for Shatt Week 2018, organized byVoltron Weekson Tumblr.Day 1: Healing.





	One Kiss For Each Piece

He woke up in the dim light of an unknown room, startled and sweaty. His wide-open eyes tried to adjust to the strange light with despair, while his numbed brain identified three signs that disconcerted him.

First, the surprising absence of the damn violet lights, omnipresent, that welcomed him every time he had the bad luck to open his eyes and remember his torment, whenever repulsive hands hovered over him.

Second, a buzzing, urban sounds, machines and voices that he never heard during his captivity and evoked better moments, like a lullaby, relegated to the land of past dreams. When there were actual people around him, instead of monsters.

And third, the notable absence of his right arm. The emptiness was compensated by a gloved hand that clutched his left hand and on which, with difficulty, he focused his gaze, climbing slowly up the arm that followed it until it reached the man to whom it belonged. He found at the end of the road a pair of eyes that also looked frightened, confused... a familiar face, a memory of the past. A recurring dream.

"Matt..." Shiro said, but then quickly removed his hand and slipped back until his back hit the corner of a metal wall. He dragged with him the blankets of a bed he was laying on for the first time in centuries or so he felt, and the room had a soft source of light on the ceiling. A window, he noticed in a fearful glance, through which orange light entered, allowing him to distinguish the features of the ghost that, for so long, had visited him sporadically to torment and comfort him.

"Shiro, calm down, listen to me please..." the ghost had a voice and was whispering. The voice was deeper than usual, but it was still unmistakable.

"You can’t be here. Y-you can't--" stuttered Shiro, making no sense. The fog in his brain felt like a wall he was trying to jump and couldn’t, as if his thoughts were slippery and could not connect with each other. The ghost stopped extending his hands to him, straightened in the chair next to the bed and, in a soft and reassuring tone, said:

"You are safe. You aren’t with the Galra. Please, try to remember... we took you to the Castleship. We put you in a pod and you saw the team. You saw me…"

The man's voice tried to stay as firm as his gaze, but a delicate tremor betrayed his intentions. That almost imperceptible vibration echoed inside Shiro like a familiar and nostalgic note, slowly opening his mind, still blocked by the fog. Images began to pass: the noise, the faces of his team. How he had asked Keith to cut his arm in a burst of understanding, how the boy's hands had shaken in obeying the order that was barked at him. Pain, a collapse, he was in the Castle, he had been put in a healing pod. The arms that had received him when he stepped down were unknown. Around him, faces he could identify: Allura, Coran, Keith, Lance, Hunk, Pidge... Then, who was holding him?

"Welcome back," a voice had whispered in his ear and as he stepped back, he found the same pair of warm eyes that appeared in his dreams every night. Matthew Holt was there and he didn’t understand why, but he didn’t care: he had to hold him tight before he disappeared. Before a purple soldier dragged him away from him once again.

And the seconds had passed and Matt didn’t let go. He had looked up and the team was watching him with different expressions, varying from pity to joy, but Shiro looked at them surprised because... everything looked so real. Was he really free? He didn’t dare to believe it yet. It could be another sadistic illusion of the witch, who knew his deepest desires.

While he still questioned it, they had tried to take him to his old room, but the long corridor with its Altean lights suddenly looked too much like the hallway that haunted him and seemed to tell him that he was going to die at any moment. His head was beginning to accept, somehow, that he was home, but his feet didn’t feel connected to his body, they weren’t taking orders. The absence of his arm seemed to have spread to all of his remaining limbs and he simply couldn’t continue. His head hurt, darkness had consumed him again, and now he had woken up in this room.

Matt got up, took the pitcher that rested on a metallic table by his side, filling a grey cup and extending it to Shiro.

"Water. They know how we humans are, so they always leave some water at hand for us,” he smiled, while his hand shivered, spilling a bit of the content of the cup. Always hiding he was scared, Shiro thought, stretching out his left hand, but instead of taking the cup, he touched the fingers that held it.

“Are you really here, Matt? How?” he asked, feeling the texture of his gloves.

The man's lips trembled and he hurried to leave the cup back, with little delicacy. He sat on the bed and simply hugged Shiro, putting his arms around his neck.

"It's me. For real. And you... you're here too. At last,” he whispered in his ear, his voice cracking. Shiro felt something break in his chest. He was safe. Although a part of himself still wasn’t willing to believe it was true, he decided that he didn’t care anymore. If he was dreaming, then he wasn’t going to wake up anymore, period. With his arm, he surrounded his friend's back and squeezed him with all his might. He heard Matt laugh.

"Ugh, I see that you’re still stronger than me. Showoff," he joked, and Shiro let go to look at the face that accompanied that back, wider than he remembered.

Time had passed and Matt was no longer the scrawny teenager he had had to save. His features were no longer childish, he was at least one head taller, and his shoulders were broad and strong. His attire showed a strong, agile and masculine body, very distant from his old frame. But the eyes... the eyes were still the same, he thought, fixing his own on those honey-colored irises, while unconsciously tracing the scar on his cheek with the tips of his fingers.

Matt allowed the caress without flinching, his slight blush overshadowed by his worried expression. He knew what was coming and they had to start somewhere. Shiro decided he didn’t want to wait.

"I want to know everything," he declared, fearing the answer as much as he craved it. Matt lowered his eyes.

"It's... a long story, and I think it's not good to tell it right away. But you have to know that you’re safe, although at a rebel base, instead of the Castle. I requested that they allow me to bring you with me, because... well...” the honey-colored eyes once again focused on his, bright and restless. He sighed, as if trying to choose the words. "Too many things happened and among the rebels we have ... methods, experienced people, who have gone through the same thing. For situations like yours. Like mine. They helped me and I think they could help you," he concluded.

Shiro was not sure how to feel about that explanation while nodding hesitantly. He remembered his blurry episode at the Castleship and wondered if maybe they were separating him from the group as a way to ensure their safety. In that case, he agreed, but that didn’t make it any less painful. However, at that moment there was something that mattered even more.

"What about you, Matt? How did you escape-- what happened? We looked for you... I-I wanted...” Again, it was difficult to articulate words, the haze not dissipating completely. But Matt put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I escaped with a group of rebels. It's also a long story, but you must know that if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. I owe you my life and I will do whatever it takes to help you claim back yours. Anything,” he declared, while his hand touched the long strands of hair that fell on Shiro's shoulders. He didn’t remember ever having his hair so long in his entire life.

"You owe me nothing. What I did to you was horrible too. I'm so sorry,” Shiro said, now his voice trembling, as he touched the scar on Matt's face again. But he caught his hand and shook his head.

"You saved me and there’s nothing to forgive. It’s my turn to help now."

The boy straightened up and took one of the towels next to the pitcher. He dampened it and passed it across Shiro's face, who blinked in confusion.

"You sweated while you were sleeping, that's all," Matt said, laughing as he passed the towel around Shiro's neck. But when he reached his amputated arm, he flinched.

"I can do it myself," Shiro blurted, noting that he sounded more rude than intended. Matt looked him straight in the eye again, smiling softly.

"I know. I just want to do it, if you let me."

Shiro opened his mouth slightly and then, looking forward, nodded. Matt continued with the task, wiping his torso, lifting the sweatshirt he wore, and Takashi thought vaguely of what would have been of his poor heart and other parts of himself if this episode had happened during his years as an officer, in those distant times when he silently loved his best friend, son of his mentor. Always so close and at the same time so far away, with his brilliant smile and his infinite curiosity. With his eyes always on the stars, on what he couldn’t reach. That's why he had decided that he’d be the one to take him there. He would take him to the stars he loved so much and fulfill all his dreams, present and future.

The same dreams that the Galra Empire had destroyed with a single brutal fist when they were just beginning.

He looked at the focused face of his best friend, who smiled at him with the same sweetness as always in his mischievous features. Perhaps the expression "loved", in past tense, wasn’t that accurate. If only the images of his captivity stopped crossing incessantly in his head, he could decide.

But they didn’t stop. They wouldn’t stop from that day on.

 

* * *

 

A week and several panic attacks passed, each in the darkness of his room, which Matt had guaranteed was private, as if he knew how much he feared being heard. Nights were the worst. Every time he tried to clear his head and tell himself that he had to stand up and face his people, he began to remember everything that had been done to him like a silent, terrifying movie. He trembled uncontrollably, sweated, lost momentarily the ability to connect his mind to his body. He wouldn’t cry, but he felt chocked for minutes and even hours, barely sleeping, only when exhaustion caused the shadow that crushed him to release him almost out of pity, plunging him into a restless sleep from which every morning Matt woke him up with a smile that he wasn’t able to return.

He felt devastated, pathetic and useless. His right arm, his main strength in the battle against the Empire, was gone and in addition to the tangle of memories that haunted him day and night, being asleep and awake, now he couldn’t see how he could contribute to any cause, not even for the rebels. Piloting for Voltron team was out of the question. It didn’t matter that Matt assured him that the rebels had access to enough technology to get a good prosthetic with great neuronal response because that wasn’t the only problem. Still unable to complete the puzzle of his situation, he couldn’t even understand his own story. He just felt... broken. Lost and broken. Other rebels visited him sometimes and tried to talk him out of this feeling, still to no avail. They never insisted, trying to give him time. It was barely a week since the rescue. Too soon.

Matt was still reluctant to explain anything beyond comments here and here. That morning he went to his room like every day, asking how he felt, how he had slept. And every day Shiro was getting gloomier and paler. Matt pursed his lips and announced something different, much to his surprise.

"Keith and Lance are here to visit you. Would you like to receive them?"

Shiro opened his mouth but slammed it shut. He hadn’t called his team yet, he didn’t feel ready. He hadn’t even left the room that week, but even so, his first impulse was to say yes, of course yes, he was dying to see the faces he missed so much. But he looked at himself, lying on a bed, his hair and beard still long, like an old man, defeated. How could he let Keith and Lance see him like this?

Matt seemed to guess the thought.

"Keith has called every day asking about you, you know. I think that today he simply decided that he doesn’t care if we let him in or not..." he stated, smiling and raising some strange objects that Shiro recognized as razor blades, similar to those that had been provided at the Castleship. He added:

"So, if you want to see them... I'm ready when you are. They've waited for a week, they can wait for a little longer. Whatcha say?"

It was impossible to say no to that face that seemed to raise him with the sole strength of a gaze. With the corner of his mouth twitching, Shiro got up and stretched, approaching Matt, who got a little nervous.

"I’ll do it. But can you do something about this?" Shiro asked, taking the razors and showing a lock of his long hair. Matt looked at him critically.

"Cutting it, no, you may have noticed that I failed the stylist course," he said, showing his own uneven hair, "but if you don’t mind-- we can improvise." Shiro raised an eyebrow but surrendered to his hands.

When Keith and Lance entered, they found Shiro sitting on the chair that Matt normally occupied. He was dressed in a change of clothes that Matt had brought him, his hair was pulled back in a slick ponytail that slipped over his shoulder and his face was pale and haggard, but as soon as the boys appeared by the door, he managed to pull a sincere smile.

Keith almost ran to hug him. Shiro managed to surround him with his left arm, in silence. He looked at Lance inquisitively, seeing that the boy seemed to hesitate a little in the doorway. Matt, behind him, gave him a little push to make him enter and closed the door, leaving the room.

If he had had his right arm, he’d have made a gesture for Lance to come closer, but had to settle with an encouraging smile, making the boy pout and finally approach, with one arm around Shiro and the other around Keith, who couldn’t say anything.

"I missed you, guys," Shiro said.

"Gosh, we missed you too. It's so good to see you well, Shiro. How do you feel?” Lance asked.

First question and it was already a difficult one. But Shiro wanted to ask many questions too, so he simply said:

"Better, thanks. How's everybody?"

"Dying to see you," Lance replied, parting slightly from Shiro and placing a hand on his right shoulder. With a touch of guilt, he added, "everyone wants to come, but we were waiting to be told when. Keith here... uh... he wanted to come right away. I hope it's not a problem..."

"I wanted to see you. I wanted to know if you're okay," Keith admitted, kneeling by his side now. Lance watched the scene with sad eyes.

"Don’t worry, it’s no problem. I also wanted to see you. It's just... I haven’t been in optimal condition," he ruffled Keith's hair. “I didn’t want you to see me so defeated."

" _Defeated?!_ " both boys exclaimed, pissed. Lance let Keith talk.

"Shiro, after everything you've been through, how can you believe that someone would think that?! All of this is our fault. It took us too long to notice what was wrong..." he said.

"You saved me. None of this is your fault. Nobody is guilty of anything but Zarkon, his druids… and their fucking Empire," Shiro said, feeling hatred overflowing him. So many apologies from the people he loved, when nothing that had happened to him was their fault. Not even he himself was to blame. Why had he suffered so much, then? How could there be creatures who would rejoice so much in truncating the lives of others?

His face must've reflected his thoughts, because both boys looked at him alarmed, perhaps surprised at how easily he was losing control (and language) now. He knew he wasn’t behaving like himself, but he couldn’t control his emotions either so this time he didn’t even try. Looking at both boys, he expressed what he wanted to know.

"Guys... I need to know what happened. Matt doesn’t want to explain anything to me yet. What did they do to me? What happened all the time I was gone?"

Lance and Keith looked at each other.

"They warned us not to talk too much. Maybe this is too much to explain at once..." Lance muttered.

"Shiro has the right to know what happened to him, Lance. Don’t you think it's unfair to hide his own story from him?" Keith replied, annoyed.

"It's not hiding, it's explaining little by little instead of messing everything up," retorted Lance, exasperated.

"That's why I am telling you--"

"I'm not a kid, guys. And I want an explanation. Now." Shiro interrupted, suddenly. Although he appreciated that they cared so much for him, he couldn’t stand not knowing anymore. He looked fiercely at his teammates, who were intimidated by that look and his tone. Lance sighed and Keith decided to speak.

And he explained. He told him how 'he' had returned to them after the battle against Zarkon, more than a year ago. How another Shiro lived with them, without being noticed, during all that time. How he usurped his place and the Black Lion, how Keith had left the team to join the Blade of Marmora, how they had fought a battle that almost killed them in Naxzela. About the sudden alliance with Lotor, how Lotor helped to discover his situation. How Lance was the one who discovered that Shiro didn’t behave like himself, how much it cost him to confide his worries, choosing Keith to tell him. How the other Shiro had had the privilege of meeting Matt when Pidge found him. How they had found the place where the witch had him kidnapped. When they rescued him, the witch had tried to manipulate him. Shiro remembered from then on, how when he woke up he was certain that something had been done to him, and instinct told him that everything was connected to his damn arm. Keith stopped his tale there, probably surpassed by the awful memories of having to cut off his own friend’s arm, at his request.

Shiro felt the air grow dimmer as if the room didn’t have enough oxygen. _Robbed_. That's how he felt, robbed and broken, robbed from receiving Matt, from the moments in the Castle, from his own battles. Of his place and his life. How was it even possible... He tried to stay collected, seeing that the boys looked at him worriedly.

"Shiro, I know you're not ready yet, but the team is waiting for you. The Black Lion needs you. Your place is with team Voltron. Please... come back,” Keith begged, putting a pleading hand on his knee. Noticing that he was trembling, he raised his eyes with concern to his friend's sweaty face.

"Shiro?"

Trying to control himself, Shiro made an effort to breathe and smile.

"Thanks, Keith. I needed to know. But, for now, it's b-better this way..."

"Are you okay, Shiro? Do you need--?” Lance managed to ask, but Shiro shook his head.

"Don’t worry. It's just... it's hard to accept that all this happened and I wasn’t there with you. I'm so sorry."

"But now you are! And I'll never let something like that happen to you again. This time I swear it. Never again..." Keith's eyes were getting teary, so he hid his face quickly. Shiro once again stroked the boy's hair, the closest to a family he had ever had. But, although he couldn’t bear to see him cry and wanted to say something to comfort him, he was actually wishing for both boys to leave. His body warned him that he was on the verge of another crisis and he wasn’t going to allow these boys, his friends, his teammates and saviors, to see him like that. No. Not like that...

The door opened and Matt came in.

"Sorry guys, but they’re calling for you. Allura needs you two back," he announced, and Keith took advantage of the distraction to wipe his eyes fleetingly, while Lance jumped up.

The boys said goodbye to Shiro, promising to return with the rest of the team next time if that was ok. With a tense smile, Shiro nodded, while the three left the room and the door closed.

Alone, Shiro got up from the chair and collapsed before reaching the bed. It was difficult for him to breathe and he felt his emotions out of control: anger, hatred, sadness, the hollowness he felt for the time they experimented with him and not only stole his body, but even his memories, to put them in another body. How much did the clone know about him? What did he do when he saw Matt? How come nobody realized he was a clone? With his arms on the blankets and knees on the floor, the weird sobs that escaped his chest uncontrollably chocked him and continued for several minutes until they were cut by a knock on the door.

"Shiro, can I come in?" Matt had returned from dismissing the boys. _'No, you can’t',_ Shiro tried to say, but he couldn’t articulate the words and Matt simply opened the door, finding him on the floor, sweaty, with damp eyes and unable to breathe normally.

Pale, he closed the door and took three long steps to get behind Shiro, surrounding him with his arms, both on the ground. Shiro was so out of control that he instinctively tried to brush him off, but Matt squeezed him tightly and started talking to him, softly. Comforting and reassuring words, repeating over and over again things like _'I'm here', 'you'll be fine', 'let it out'_. Shiro gave up and just let the chain of events flow, moments that wouldn’t leave him alone, he let them flow through his body, concentrate on his eyes and drain outward in the form of tears. He didn’t remember the last time he had cried, but it was as if it were the first time: stripped of everything, empty, tears of pure uncontested pain, suppressing the screams that scratched his throat trying to get out.

He didn’t know at what point Matt picked him up and laid him on the bed, positioning himself by his side, one arm across his chest, another behind his head, as the light in the room changed rapidly. Maybe they were on a planet with short cycles, Shiro didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about where he was, he realized in a corner of his mind, like a murmur. It was good that his mind could finally think of something else, so he tried to follow that path, hoping to stop the torrent that flowed out of control. He thought about the warmth of Matt's arms and how his eyes looked at him, barely a pair of inches away. He looked at them more closely and noticed that silent tears fell from them as they watched him in the dim light that entered the room. A feeling of guilt lodged in his chest as he raised his hand to his face, so familiar, so dear. It wasn’t the first time he had seen him cry, but he really wanted it to be the last.

"I'm so sorry," Shiro muttered, feeling the chaos subside, returning to its hidden place little by little, replaced by new worries.

"I'm so sorry," Matt repeated, squeezing him in his arms. Strong, Shiro thought, feeling a tingling in his stomach. A very old feeling, from the times when he was a cadet who was carrying a torch for his friend. When they both laughed and dreamed of traveling through the stars and no tragedy had separated them.

But, after everything that had happened... Wasn’t he so lucky to have this moment? Each star had aligned, each force of the universe had worked to reunite them and now, despite everything, despite so much abuse, so much hatred and so much injustice, at an unknown place in the universe, Takashi Shirogane had met Matthew Holt once again and could enjoy a day in his arms. Seriously, wasn’t he lucky after all?

Like a balm to his soul, that idea spilled over everything else, extinguishing fires everywhere. _'Truly lucky'_ was his last thought, exhaling softly before heavy drowsiness consumed him. For the first time, since his return.

 

* * *

 

He woke up like every time, a few hours later, startled in the darkness. Sweaty, but this time not only because of his atrophied nerves but because of someone else's heat. His jump also woke Matt, who sat up scared, until he understood the place and circumstances in which he was.

"Hey. How are you?" he asked. Shiro couldn’t see his face well in the darkness, but his silhouette could be distinguished, sitting by his side.

"I'm fine. I’m s--" he managed to say, but Matt put a hand on his face. Then, with an 'oops' he slid it toward his mouth, after searching for it in the dark.

"Don’t you dare to say you're sorry. There's nothing you should apologize for."

"I'm just giving you trouble," Shiro muttered.

"HEY! I said shhhh." Matt moved a finger over his lips and added: "I know it's hard, of course you don’t wanna be seen like this. But Shiro, you have to spill everything out. No one doubts that you are strong, but you can’t lock everything inside you, or in this room. It’s dangerous. And I know I told you that nobody here was going to bother you, but that didn’t include me."

Shiro exhaled, amused, through Matt's fingers that still brushed his lips. He closed his eyes, appreciating the sensation.

"Well, at least let me say sorry for making you miss an entire day of work," he said.

"Bah, they can live without me for a day," Matt replied.

"And surely your arm is numb."

"No one has died of that, as far as I know. I’d have to check it in the database to be sure, but..."

"And having you with me is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you," Shiro confessed, opening his eyes, taking Matt's hand in his and pressing it against his lips.

It was impossible to see his expression in the darkness, but his silhouette moved a bit, although his hand remained in the same place.

"And what hurts the most is that all your dreams were interrupted by what happened. I feel like I failed you, and that’s something I’ll never forgive myself for. I can’t stop saying that I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry..." Shiro said, letting out what he had thought many times in the solitude of his Castleship room. Every night, wondering if the Holts were alive, wondering if there was something he could have done better as their pilot, distracted by duty, dealing with his guilt by himself.

This time Matt, without letting go of Shiro's hand, stood up from the bed and pulled his arm.

"Come with me," he said, simply. Feeling the weakness of his legs, Shiro obeyed and followed Matt through the door for the first time in several days.

They walked through bronze-colored metal hallways, like his room. The complex reminded him of the interior of a human ship, with doors close to each other and similar to cabins. They climbed a staircase and Shiro saw control rooms, dining rooms and, here and there, aliens of various species. Maybe doing the last tasks of the day, judging by the darkness that was visible through the windows. They had slept all afternoon and part of the evening, apparently.

They went up and up, Shiro beginning to wonder where they were going, when they reached the last section of the narrow staircase, which led to a trapdoor that, with some difficulty, Matt opened, passing through it. Shiro imitated him, sticking his head out in the cool night air, while his mouth opened in surprise at the landscape that opened before him.

They were at the highest point of the complex, next to a huge structure that resembled a large antenna. Not one, but three moons could be seen in the sky, huge and colorful, white, blue and green. They cast a cold light on the surface of the planet that seemed to be made of rock and crystals. Although there was no vegetation on sight, the crystals formed clusters that looked like forests in the distance, reflecting the colors of the moons like enormous kaleidoscopes, while a pleasant breeze raised micro tornadoes of brilliant dust everywhere. A planet with an atmosphere friendly to humans, there for them to marvel at the perfection that the universe achieved by itself. Matt took a few steps forward, extending his arms and looking at Shiro.

"We are in Pareimidos, a newly freed system. This particular planet has great potential to transmit waves, so here I have to work, establishing communications for the entire Coalition. Pretty, right? Down there you saw my colleagues. I work with all kinds of species and races, from berebet to shoc'tor. They always make sure I have enough water at hand... And last but not least…” Matt inhaled and exhaled with great ceremony. “Air. Everything a little, puny human can wish for, don’t you think?"

The breeze raised Matt's hair, dusting it like glitter, and the light illuminated him softly as if he was a mythical creature. Shiro felt that it was worth living to see this. Lowering his arms, Matt approached him.

"You put my dreams in motion and we discovered that the universe is bigger and more terrifying than we could’ve foreseen. We didn’t have any way to know that beforehand... And the road was rough. They broke us, they separated us, but here we are. It's so weird, but after feeling that everything had been stolen from me for so long, after Pidge found me, one day I realized that I got what I had always wanted, only not as I had expected." Matt stopped in front of Shiro, looking into his eyes. "But nothing that I have is worth anything if you’re not with me to see it. All my dreams always included you, Taka. So… no. My dreams are not shattered. There’s nothing to forgive. As long as you're safe and with me, it's ok. I said now it's my turn. My turn to ask for your forgiveness and help you move forward."

Always eloquent, always intelligent, sensitive, perfect. Shiro felt his skin prickle from head to toe, drinking every word like a man lost in the desert drinks from a well, not knowing what to do with his body, while the wind ruffled his hair behind his back. The dark ghost of what he had heard that morning, however, peeked out, ready to ruin the moment.

"But now you have a flawed version of me with you, after having a whole one. Look at me, Matt. Is this really me? I'm not even sure anymore," said Shiro. Matt gave an exasperated sigh.

"I knew those two were going to talk too much. But you have no idea, Taka. They tricked us, but when we discovered the truth, it was all so... obvious. So painfully obvious."

Matt crossed his arms and bit his lower lip. Shiro wanted to know more, but he didn’t know exactly what Matt meant. Looking towards the crystal clusters, Shiro confessed what tormented him the most.

"I feel... broken, Matt. I feel like they broke me, the bastards. They managed to break me and all the pieces are scattered, I'm a mess. I know I have to control myself, pull myself together, overcome it. But I don’t know-- I don’t even know where to start."

"One step at a time," Matt replied, taking another step closer himself, "and I'll help you. I told you, I'll do anything I can to help you. We’ll fix this, piece by piece."

"Matt, I appreciate it, but you don’t owe me anything either. What I did to save you was only because--" he stopped just in time. He couldn’t say it out loud. The wind blew and waved their hair and clothes in that awkward pause. But Matt never tolerated pauses and Shiro knew it. He put a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look right at his eyes.

"Because you loved me, right?" he asked. Shiro's eyes widened. Did Matt understand what he was asking? Would he even understand his answer? It was the only answer he could give. His heart couldn’t lie to save his life at that moment.

"…Yes. I love you. Always have. And I mean the kind of love that..." Shiro wanted to explain to avoid misunderstandings, avoiding any unnecessary waste of time. Everything he always kept in his heart, just take it out now, before it was late again, before the next unfortunate, horrifying, excruciating event that would fall over their heads. But Matt began to laugh, and he felt his soul escape from his body. How could he…? Outraged, he frowned and Matt laughed harder.

"Always the same, Taka, thinking I'm an idiot. What other ‘kind’ of love could it be?" he said, but now Shiro noticed that he was nervous, because the hand on his cheek was shivering just like the day he had offered him water.

"But... then..." Shiro didn’t know what to say. He only knew that if he ever heard Matt promise him things out of pity, he’d rather go back to the Castle. Really, he couldn’t tolerate it. Matt, however, put his other hand on Shiro's other cheek, forcing him to focus on him again.

"Forgive me, I’ve always been such a loser. I never knew how to express myself in serious matters, whenever I tried I ended up joking. But I was never happier than when we went in that mission together. At that moment, I felt that I had everything. And when you saved me... you apologized for attacking me, but the one who owes you an apology is me. My weakness caused everything. If I had been strong, if I had been brave, none of this would’ve happened. And that idea always tormented me, because… how could I tell you that I love you if I ever saw you again, when I wasn’t able to do anything for you? So unworthy.”

Now the trembling of Matt’s both hands was evident. It was also evident in his voice that he was so nervous. Shiro was frozen.

"But, after all of this happened, I made a decision. Now that we have a second chance, I want to do things right. Not because I owe you, not to get rid of my guilt. I just want to help you, and see you smile again, because we're both here, because the universe gave us another chance. All I want to do is to start over, without regretting anything. You get it, don’t ya Taka?"

Shiro saw it clearly at that moment. Matt had traveled a path as hard as his, and that path had made him grow up, become a better man. The same man he had loved, and that now gave him reasons to reaffirm that love. The joy of knowing that he was reciprocated was like a fountain of water in the middle of his chest, but Matt was also giving him something else: the desire to look down and pick up the first piece of himself that he needed to put in its place. And that piece was the simple will to wake up the next day, knowing there were things to improve, work to do and a person to love.

He smiled with all of his features, including his eyes, that never grew tired of looking at that pale and slightly freckled face, with its high nose and playful lips. Again, with the back of his left hand, he stroked the pink scar on his cheek.

"Yeah. I get it now, Matt."

Matt blushed. Typical of him, act first, think later. An entire speech and the blush always came later, thought Takashi, absolutely captivated, feeling the trembling hands still on his face.

"Err, well... this is the part where you lean and kiss me, right? I'm not an expert," Matt mumbled.

"No, you're the one holding me. You do it," Shiro replied, resisting the urge to jump on him.

"Hell, Taka, you know I can’t reach," Matt complained, now completely flushed.

"What? You can. You're pretty tall now," Shiro joked. He actually was almost as tall as him. With his arm, he encircled Matt's waist and pulled him closer. "How about now?"

"Way to set the mood," Matt muttered, but he used his hands to force Shiro to crouch a little toward him, closing his eyes.

A sip of life, Shiro thought, as he opened his mouth to feel the kiss, noticing Matt's nerves in the cautious way his lips explored him, looking for a way to respond that wouldn’t let him see the desperation he felt. Savoring the feeling, forgetting for a magical moment everything else, lost in the sensation of his tongue brushing Matt's upper lip and his startled groan, the way he opened his mouth a little more, giving in to him. His.

Slowly, they distanced themselves, opening their eyes and looking at each other. Matt's hands dropped to Shiro's shoulders, catching his breath.

"Well... that was... something," he said.

"Just that?" Shiro asked, raising an eyebrow.

"One step at a time, right? And to be the first step it was a pretty big one..." Matt muttered, his mouth red.

"Can I expect more of these steps, then?" Shiro asked.

"Sure. I promised, right? One at a time. One for each broken piece," Matt affirmed, sighing and hugging him.

Shiro felt himself melting, resting his chin on Matt's shoulder, looking at the beautiful landscape in front of him. The hostile images, the violet lights, were still intertwined, but at that precise moment, he saw them as an old, distorted, ugly film. With all his might he focused on the things that were real, that were there at that moment. Those that were true and he would never let go.

In the gentle arms that guaranteed the possibility of being able to sleep peacefully again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, first of all I want to apologize if you consider my description of Shiro's PTSD too shallow. I accept any critiques in that sense and actually any other aspect! Comments are appreciated beyond words!  
> Second chapter will have mature content. Shiro deserves the world, and Matt is my sweetheart <3 I really love them, I hope I made them justice. I just have a little poll for you... which one do you prefer? Top!Shiro or Top!Matt? I'm really curious...
> 
> With that said, I hope you enjoyed this! 
> 
> Muah!


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